The same journeys which procured me my Primroses served to secure me a supply of Wild Hyacinth bulbs. In the copse whence I obtained them these beautiful plants were growing together in vast numbers, and they were so closely intermingled with one another that the same large lumps of earth enclosed roots of both. Though much earlier in appearing than the Hyacinth (Hyacinthus non-scriptus), the Primrose flowers on into the beginning of the Hyacinth season, and both may be seen together in the height of their floral glory. But whilst the Primrose may frequently be found growing in clay soil, the Hyacinth prefers a lighter, softer, and richer soil. Hence in moving the roots of the exquisitely-scented Bluebell greater care is required to avoid disturbing them. The Wild Hyacinth is recorded as occurring in ninety botanical districts.

It was very easy to remove my Sweet Violets from the place of their growth, because the plants are so small that earth enough could be taken up with them to ensure their vigorous vitality during the remainder of their natural lives. I put them in the shadiest parts of my green lane; here and there, however, setting them where they could get a gleam of occasional sunlight; for even the most shade-loving of plants do sometimes like to coquet a little with the sunshine they commonly avoid. My violets grew well; for though they

love similar conditions of moisture, it almost seems that there must be some mysterious bond of sympathy between Hyacinths, Primroses, and Violets, because each appears to thrive better whilst in proximity with the others. The Sweet Violet (Viola odorata) will of course always be distinguished by its beautiful perfume. But it may be known from its very similar congener, the Dog or Wood Violet (Viola canina), by the circumstance that its flower-stalks spring directly from the creeping stems or scions which run along the ground, whilst the much shorter flower-stems of Viola canina spring from the various parts of the branched stems of that species. The twin green bracts, or little leafy excrescences, found on the flower-stalks of Viola odorata, are ordinarily above the middle of the stalk, whilst in the Hairy Violet, another congener which resembles it in some respects, the bracts are ordinarily below the middle of the stalk. The more hairy appearance, too, of the stems of Viola hirta will indicate the specific difference. I always found that, as in their native habitats, the heart-shaped leaves of my Sweet Violets became enlarged after the plants had flowered. But the blossoms, unhappily, were of much shorter duration than those of my Dog Violets, disappearing in May, whilst Viola canina went blooming on into August. The Sweet Violet is found in seventy-two botanical districts.

Early and special mention I must not forget to give to the grandest of all my green-lane flowers; I mean my Foxgloves, which I planted, in the sunnier parts of my banks, in rich, light earth, containing abundance of leaf-mould. The Foxglove (Digitalis purpurea) may be found growing to a height of four feet, and sometimes it may be discovered even higher than that; and it carried its wonderful beauty and vigour, without diminution, into my garden wild, rising to a height of quite four feet. I did not actually measure my specimens, but I am inclined to think they were really higher than four feet. I think most visitors to the country must know the long, tall, and handsome flowering stems of the Foxgloves, looking, in the wood, coppice, or hedgerow, something like floral bayonets garlanded with the large, drooping, bell-shaped, and purplefreckled-with-white flowers. Scarcely any other blossoms of the wood or hedgerow are so strikingly prominent as are those of Digitalis purpurea. But the plant itself, before the period of flowering, is less frequently recognised, though the large, pointed, broadly lance-shaped, and finely indented leaves, glossy above, and hoary-looking, and soft to the touch underneath, can scarcely be unfamiliar to anyone. The handsome, conspicuous leaves become smaller and smaller as the stem ascends, finally as the prolongation of

the latter becomes the flowering raceme, dwindling to mere bract-like leafy appendages. When in its full glory, and leaves and flowers are fully developed, the singularly upright, pyramidal appearance of the Foxglove renders it sufficiently distinct from any other plant likely to be growing in its particular neighbourhood. The abundance of this handsome species is sufficiently indicated by the fact that it occurs in not less than ninety-five out of a hundred and twelve botanical districts.

Very common indeed, recorded in ninety-nine districts, is another well-known hedge-flower that I grew in the banks of my green lane, and so abundant that it is to be found almost everywhere. This is the Herb Robert (Geranium robertianum). It is seldom that one can look into the tangled mass of greenery to be found in most wayside hedge-banks without seeing the red, hairy, branching stems, the five-angled, prettily-cut, shining leaves-growing in opposite pairs, each divided into from three to five pinnatifid, deeply-indented leaflets-and the pretty pairs of light-red flowers. The blossoms are the most immediately conspicuous part of this plant, for their long stems enable them to overtop the low, matted greenery of the hedge-bank. The Herb Robert is the most abundant of a rather large family, numbering at least a dozen members.

My hedge-banks would scarcely have looked natural had I omitted the Great Bindweed (Convolvulus sepium), whose large, white, bell-shaped flowers-‘hedgebells,' as they are sometimes appropriately and descriptively called-are found in many hedge-banks. The plant is found in seventy-five botanical districts. When there is no blossom, the long, green, trailing (sometimes), but generally climbing, stem, and the single, large-sized, arrow-shaped leaves, are familiar objects for recognition. The small calyx of each blossom at the base of the long tube of the corolla is not only dwarfed by the great size of the latter, but is actually hidden from view by an opposite pair of green, heart-shaped bracts, the points of which are turned upwards in such a manner that the pair half embrace the corolla-tube. Very beautiful, though so common,' are the flowers of the Wayside Mallow (Malva sylvestris), and the dark-green, five-lobed leaves-each lobe prettily indented the large, handsome, five-petalled flowers being light pink with veins of darker pink, each petal broadly indented at its apex. I cannot remember the earliest time of childhood when I did not know the Mallow. Its green fruit, so wonderfully like minute 'cheeses,' and called by all children after the useful product of the dairy, I have, like every school-boy, often eaten. The Mallow becomes a large plant, sometimes two or three.